Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5

Day 2

When I think back across earlier bluesfests, I can’t really remember it ever raining. I mean, sure there were a few showers, but nothing too severe. Well, today it proper rained – for at least 3 hours – leaving the Tyagrah swamplands, well – kinda swampy. And people were wet, but resolute – as we tramped mud from stage to stage to check out the lineup for the day.

Playing for Change

Playing for Change is less of a band, and more of a foundation, or movement that aims to unite the world through its musicians. It’s a fantastic goal, and one seems so crazy it just might work. You can learn more about the movement, the music and the huge and diverse collective of musicians that are part of it over on the Playing for Change website. The band that turned up on the Jambalya stage was equally far-reaching, featuring musicians from New Orleans, The Congo, Zimbabwe, Italy, Israel, Cuba and The Netherlands. And the show they put on was mesmerizing. Such beautiful positive energy, so much talent and harmony, not to mention fun and  dancing. The closing finale – a cover of 4 Non Blondes “What’s going on?” that segued into “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” and somehow skipped across about five different genres in the process just defies description. I left the tend feeling profoundly assured that love and music could save us all.

The Beards

Okay, at some point, somebody in this band must have said something like”

“What if we all grew beards and then only sang songs about beards?”

I’m not exactly sure how that would have gone down at a band meeting, but the result of that conversation, or one like it, is this band from Melbourne – The Beards. They sing songs about beards. They have beards. And as the rains pelted the Cavanbah tent, they played to a packed crowd, heralding the virtues of a hirsute face. Such classics as No Beard, No Good, I Won’t Shave,  and the perennial favourite, If your Dad doesn’t have a Beard, you’ve got two Mums were interspersed with hilarious banter about all things beard related. It’s a bizarre comic secret, that if you tell a joke over and over, it stops being funny. But then if you persist, and keep telling it, it gets funny again! As well as being hilarious, these guys are also extremely talented musicians – with blaring saxophone solos, plenty of keytar, and a rock solid rhythm section that leaves beardless men bewildered. Beards!

Santana

As the rain persisted, ponchos and umbrellas appeared, and a good number of people found solace in the ample shelter of the bar. We all tried to fit into the giant Mojo tent – to no avail, and I ended up just outside – at the point where all the rain cascade from the tent, so basically under a giant waterfall. Beaten, I retreated to the back of the covered food hall to listen to Carlos Santana and his band. Fortunately the sound was incredible, and every note, conga hit and maraca shake rang perfectly clear. As Carlos played through Black Magic Woman and Oye Como Va  (Incidentally the most difficult songs to play on Guitar Hero), I decided I’d had enough of the rain, and snuck down to the Crossroads to see what was going down.

Trombone Shorty & Orléans Avenue

And that was Trombone Shorty – the most dynamic band leader I’ve ever seen. There was plenty of room at the front of the crossroads stage, and it was dry. In fact, it was hot. All the more from the horn powered frenzy that Troy Andrews and his band were blasting out. There’s not a great deal to say, other than these guys are consummate professionals, tight, orchestrated, and accomplished. If this guy doesn’t make you dance your ass off, you are probably dead.

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5

Day 1

We finally shrugged off the working week and slipped back into festival mode. It felt a little strange at first, like wearing somebody else’s shoes. As we filed into the venue at Tyagrah we were all a little quiet, restrained, still not quite ready to shed those office politics and business jerk tendencies that most of us have to play with each day. But Bluesfest brings out something special, and before long that familiar sense of the big Bluesfest family began to fire again. The weather was absolutely perfect, with the moon rising from behind a few wisps of cloud to watch over the affair, which this year includes seven stages, with the addition of the new Lotus Palace, which is surely one of the coolest buildings built.

Shuggie Otis

I have to admit that I didn’t know a lot about this artist, other than that he had a weird name and was from a musical family (He’s the son of Johnny Otis). We arrived late, and ended up outside the Crossroads tent, taking in some pretty sharp music from Shuggie and his band. Apparently he’s on a never-ending world-wide tour, playing his unique brand of psychedelic soul, R&B and peppered with some incredible guitar work. Pretty cool stuff.

Jake Shimabukuro

It’s hard not to listen to Jake Shimabukuro and not feel as though you are witnessing music history. The humble Hawaiian walked on to the Cavanbah stage and using just his ukulele, held the crowd transfixed, spellbound and amazed. While he gained notoriety for his famous cover of George Harrison’s “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”, (and that was even more amazing a few years later, live) He seems to be able to bring so much into these songs using those four little strings. Jake  is a force to behold, playing  familiar songs, like Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, or Adele’s Rolling in the Deep, re-imagined, re-arranged, and brought to this tiniest and often neglected member of the strings family.  His own compositions are equally beautiful, catchy, flowing and melodic, and intense. I have yet to get the stomping blues riff from “More Ukulele” out of my head. I’ve got a fever… And the only prescription….

Rodriguez

Searching for Sugarman, the award-winning documentary tells the story of how two South African music fans tracked down their musical hero, an American protest singer called Rodriguez who was hugely famous in South Africa, to find him in obscurity working as a construction worker in Detroit. It’s a fantastic story, and a great documentary, although perhaps it’s not entirely correct – Rodriguez actually had a pretty healthy musical career in Australia in the seventies and eighties,including  touring with Midnight Oil in 1981. Fast forward to 2013, and now we see the self confessed musico-politico singing his songs ably supported by the members of Midnight Oil on stage at Bluesfest.

As Sixto himself said, “I’m a solid seventy – but I’ve never felt so good as when I was back in Australia” As the huge crowd roared their approval, he winked to them. “Aw, I know it’s the drinks. But I love you back.”  He put on a great show, including a rocking version of “Blue Suede Shoes”, and out-Dylaned Dylan with a sparkling cover of “Like a Rolling Stone”.

Chris Isaak

As we headed down to the Crossroads tent, I wasn’t sure if I had or had not seen Chris Isaak play before. Turns out, that I hadn’t, and if I had, I would have dang well-remembered it. Isaak and his band put on a very memorable show. Clad handsomely in suits, with Chris himself wearing a scarlet embroidered number covered in rambling roses, they took to the stage with an amazing intensity and professionalism. Somewhere back in the history of rock ‘n roll, before Jim Morrison took his penis out, or Sid Vicious vomited on anyone, Rock musicians were gentlemen. They were charming and sweet and sexy and dangerously talented. That was the world that Chris Isaak and his band returned us to last night. Isaak himself has a formidable talent as a musician – his vocal range is amazing, and he sounded incredible, on his hits like Wicked Game and Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing. But that said, he may be the worst musician in his band. The accompaniment provided to him by his bass player, guitarist, keys player  and drummer was incredible, right down to the choreographed dancing (often through the crowd, without missing a note). After bringing out Rockabilly royalty in the form of Wanda Jackson for a touching duet, Isaak ended the show with a trip down memory lane, singing Johnny Cash’s Ring of Fire, Roy Orbison’s Pretty Woman, and returning to the stage in a suit made entirely of disco ball mirrors for a sparkling and soulful rendition of Elvis’s “I can’t help falling in love with you.” To top it off, he rounded out the night with a frenetic version of Jerry Lee Lewis’ Great Balls of Fire, complete with a piano that actually went on fire. (Well, at least attached to a smoke machine.) Isaak is a huge talent, and regardless of where you sit on the whole rockabilly/country thing, it was absolutely impossible not to be enchanted by what was, as he put it “A big ol’ rock and roll show. In a tent!”

“Trojans” describes how we carry the memories of our past experiences into our present life and melds jangly guitar, handclaps, great harmonies, and Keith Jeffery’s smooth vocal delivery to create a pop masterpiece.  On the YouTube page, a comment responding to a request to explain the song says “the memories of his childhood, his family and his lovers are trojans in his head.” Memories, like a virus he can’t get rid of.

Well, we can all relate to that to some extent… Check out Trojans from Atlas Genius.

This is pretty much what I imagine happening for every track on Dan Deacon’s new album, bearing the inspirational title “America”. Fans of the previous record, Bromst will not be surprised by the content immediately on the new record – it’s instantly recognizable Deacon. This album seems a lot more friendly and accessible than previous efforts though – there is a layer of polish across the record – as if all the harsh buzzing teeth on the sonic cogs have been filed down so as to make them a little more user-friendly. King Crimson engineer Simon Heyworth mastered the final recordings, as part of Deacon’s aim to make the album sound “More like a rock record” – and it’s clearly evident. This is Deacon’s most accessible album to date, and a great place to start if you’re new to the Baltimore composers peculiar experience of electronica.

And it is an experience. The album is divided into two parts – the opening five tracks are brash, thoughtful and complex – both in structure and in lyrical density, whereas the last four tracks comprise a movement of songs prefaced with “USA:” opening with sombre cellos and progressing through masses of frenetic overlaid noise, each track merging with the previous one seamlessly. USA III: Rail opens with the soothing glockenspiel like pizzicato string rhythms of a freight train, and then blooms with horns and chords and swollen strings into a beautiful haunting musical landscape that reminds me of Sufjan Stevens’s Illinois. It’s quite clearly America that Deacon is referencing here, not just through the title, but through the music – it somehow really sounds like America to me. And as it all resolves and steps up into the finale, USA IV:Manifest it seems to pose a lot of questions as everything reaches a dramatic and cataclysmic conclusion.

It leaves you wondering – what the hell was that all about? And I don’t rightly know. But it sure is fun to put on your headphones and be carried through it.

Musichord Rating: 8/10  

There is just something entirely reckless about this album. It’s frantic, and disconcerting, and dissonant, and yet somehow, it’s all about harmony. That old Jazz saying – “you have to be in to be out”. Following on from 2009′s Bitte Orca, the Brooklyn band led by David Longstreth, and ably assisted by a collective of beautiful female voices – this time around featuring Amber Coffman and Haley Dekle, have continued to make their unique sound more accessible, but have somehow done it in a curiously inaccessible way.

On Unto  Caesar, a clattering meta-tune filled with off-mic activity and deliberately flat laconic  self-referential  vocals, one of the girls speaks “uh – when should we bust into harmony?” Duh. Whenever the hell they fricking feel like, is the answer. And it’s something the band does all over the record, each time sounding like a spontaneous and pure birdsong. But with so much added crazy. About to Die sounds like the band has stolen all of Carly Rae Jepsen’s musical patches from Call Me Maybe, but presents them, not with candy pop sensibilities, but with off kilter, half-hearted mangled orchestra hits, polyrhythmic confusion and crystal-sweet vocal harmonies and yet they somehow manage to capture that stickiness and structure – that pop is in there someplace, trapped and confused.

Longstreth’s David Byrne-esque vocals and masterful sweep arpeggios are still present in good measure, although the production on the record seems much less large than on Bitte Orca. Instead, it’s a lot more organic, full of hand claps and finger snaps – much warmer and less harsh – although the band still has moments of 70′s rock throwback – such as on the opening track, Offspring are Blank, where they pull out all the stops in a rock opera moment. On a completely different planet, See What She’s Seeing sounds like what might happen if you took a string quartet and a collection of Indian tabla players, and then asked them to play dubstep.

It’s a puzzle, it’s intriguing, and it’s thoroughly delightful. If you’d like to sit down and listen to a record and then shake your head in disbelief, and listen again, The Dirty Projectors have you covered. The last track on the record is ”Irresponsible Tune”. It’s a fitting closer. This whole endeavor is all very irresponsible, taking accessible sweet harmonies and so many unique attractive sounds and songs and then to recklessly mix them all up this way in such glorious unpredictability.

But then again, isn’t being irresponsible what rock and roll is all about?

Musichord Rating: 8/10  

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And yet, that kind of passion that burned magnesium-white in the sweaty pre-millenium hardcore clubs is still with us, and it surfaces occasionally, cutting through the silliness of the latest YouTube kid sensation. Vancouver’s Japandroids, in the follow-up to 2009′s Post-Nothing, have brought it to the fore in a spectacular record, the beautifully titled Celebration Rock.

The album’s first track, The Nights of Wine and Roses, opens to the sound of fireworks, distant, quiet. It encourages you to crank up the volume, to bring the celebration closer – and before you know it your speakers blow out as the kick drum build to a momentous rock peak, filled with so many clichés it’s impossible not to be sucked in.

“Long lit up tonight and still drinking
Don’t we have anything to live for?
Well, of course we do, but until it comes true
We’re drinking”

Ahh. In proper loud rock tradition, the album follows through on the premise, with crashing cymbals, pounding drums, and jagged guitar riffs punctuated with fist-pumping sing along choruses. It’s downright amazing how much noise these two guys can make.

Every long drawn out power chord is followed by a pounding kick drum, and every drawn out dramatic cymbal clash is followed with a punch in the face power chord. There are no surprises here. Close your eyes, and you are at the gig, beer splashing over the crowd as a hand is hastily raised in a triumphant impromptu celebration…

So, back to the Dad Rock thing. The guys in this band aren’t as old as me. And yeah, all the kids are right. But  lyrically, there’s an undercurrent of What-was, What-should-have-been, and The-one-that-got-away. I can’t help but listen to the record with a poignant and misty eyed sense of, well, being an old guy. Being a dad. Hopefully the modern kids are less prone to such imprinting…

The word Nostalgia translates literally to “The pain of coming home” – and listening to Fire’s Highway, or the even less subtle Younger Us, it feels so familiar, so powerful that it does sometimes ache. But in a good, good way.

Musichord Rating: 9/10  

1993. There was this skater chick called Samantha. At least I kind of assumed she was a skater. Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever saw her with a skateboard. But she typified skate ethos. Flannies, jeans, NOFX T-shirt, and a sneer were her standard wardrobe. Through a series of curious co-incidences, she ended up moving into the house I was sharing with my friends in Belconnen. It was a minimalist setup, because between the three of us, I think we owned exactly one Mitsubishi Express’ worth of furniture and clothes. Our stereo consisted of a massive guitar amp plugged into a portable discman, with a wonky power cable. Scattered carefully around this setup among the dust bunnies was a careless array of CD covers, plastic cigarette wrappers. And it was here, on a cold Canberra morning, that I first met MCA and the Beastie Boys for real. Sam’s copy of Check Your Head didn’t stand out among the CD covers with its muted black and white photo of the three boys sitting on the sidewalk. I remembered back to everything I knew about the Beastie Boys, which consisted of ‘Fight for Your Right to Party’ and that weird parody band from the 80′s, Morris Minor and the Majors, who had a moment in the sun with a crappy piss-take song about bedtime.

“Ha!” I thought to myself, “this should be good for a laugh…”

I loaded the CD up, tossing the Urge Overkill single out of the player onto the floor, shiny side up. I wiggled the power cable and hit the play button, turning the amp up to 2…

“This next one… Is the first song… on our new Album”

Heh. Very Meta.

And then, in the next 30 seconds of Jimmy James, Adam Yauch’s hip-hop love letter to Jimi Hendrix, my desire to contemptuously dismiss the Beastie Boys as some kind of cheezy frat boy party kids was gone, killed dead for ever.

And I had found an incredible new music, one that would guide me through my youth, through some wild parties and hysterical moments, but also through the quiet times, sedate social settings, long lopey summer sessions sitting around with friends. The music of Check Your Head, and later of Ill Communication grounded me throughout those difficult turbulent times, and flowed around me, melodic, positive and structured, from the early morning starts in retail (“Good Morning – Time to Get up and go to WORK!”) right through to the sophisticated stilted and awkward ‘dinner’ parties we would host after the night shift. “What’s the secret Peter? – Naturally, I’d say it was the wine.” (It was probably the hash)

And sometimes, I would think about the people behind the voices were being piped into my headphones, and wonder how they were doing. I felt that I knew them. I’d been listening to their thoughts, their music, their witty wordplay. I’d been laughing along with them, sharing the in-jokes, and taking their advice. And I wanted them to be well, and I hoped they were enjoying themselves, and feeling as good as they were making me feel, driving home from work singing along to Sabotage at the top of my lungs.. I would hear about MCA’s work with the Milarepa Fund, and the Tibetan Freedom Concerts, and I would think to myself – “That’s my boy!” I was proud of him, because his music had profoundly connected with me, and I just wasn’t emotionally capable of interpreting that in a broadcast sense. On a subconscious level, I was intimately involved with this band, these people who I loved. And it was my subconscious that was grieving this morning in the closet, that is still damaged and sad at the notion that a  relationship that it has nourished and delighted in is now over, irrevocably gone, without any goodbye, or any closure.

This is what it is to be a fan. It’s called gratitude. And that’s right.

A cold chill of fear cut through me
I felt my heart contract
To my mind I brought the image of light
And I expanded out of it
My fear was just a shadow
And then a voice spoke in my head
And she said dark is not the opposite of light
It’s the absence of light
And I thought to myself
She knows what she’s talking about
And for a moment I know
What it was all about.

- Namaste, Beastie Boys, 1992

The Wanee festival, now in its eighth year, is an annual get together of preeminent jam, blues and rock bands held in Live Oak, Florida, hosted by the Allman Brothers just off the banks of the historic Suwanee River. Before I try and describe some of the amazing music, wonderful times and lasting memories that were created at this once in a lifetime convergence of the two preeminent classic rock/jam band founding institutions, I first wanted to give you a little overview of the Spirit of Suwannee Music Park where land, water and music meld together to fill the air and feed the soul. Amazing music certainly defines a festival but something that seems to be overlooked many times when I read about festivals are the intangibles of a given venue. Sure, you need a big field, a stage, good sound system, lights, concessions, bathrooms, etc. to handle the 20,000 plus crowds that showed up at this psychedelic party but equally as important are the little things that help create a great time for everyone. The Suwannee Park is a naturally beautiful place with unspoiled woods adorned with trippy Spanish moss dripping down from the countless Oak andCypress trees that dot the 500 plus acres. The tannin-rich colored Suwannee River is a wonderful diversion as is the lake, boat house and countless other outdoor activities to keep a wandering soul occupied.

To borrow a familiar Hunter/Weir lyric you can say the Suwannee Music Park has got everything you need, a breeze in the pines in the summer night, moonlight, crazy in the sunlight, yes indeed. The park also boasts a café and store that sells all the camping supplies you might need and at very reasonable prices; an example was 20 lb. bags of ice for $4.00 delivered to your site if you want – that is service! I imagine they could have jacked up the prices since they are the only game in town but they didn’t and that just reemphasizes how cool this place really is.

The other crucial ingredient for a good time in my cookbook is a chilled environment sprinkled with nice people and Wanee cooked up the perfect combination. The people working the event, the vendors and those in attendance were the friendliest, most helpful, caring folks I have encountered in a long, long time. During our entire time we did not see a single nefarious act. No mean or rude people, no sketchy characters, no bad vibes and thankfully not even a single peep from a nasty N2O tank. I’d also like to give a big thank you to Juice of Juice and the Panty Droppers (local FL band- check them out if you can) for picking us up in his golf cart while we were way out in the primitive camping area and then delivering us to the venue right after Saturdays downpour just in time for the next musical act, hats off to southern hospitality!

This year’s Wanee festival was somewhat overshadowed by the death of Levon Helm, drummer and singer of The Band who died Thursday after a battle with cancer. Many of the musicians in attendance were good friends with Levon and had played with him at one time or another over the years. This friendship, admiration and musical bond was evident in the outpouring of affection channeled through the music throughout this event. Some of the many artists who played a tribute to Levon included Hot Tuna, Bruce Hornsby, The Allman Brothers w/Bob Weir, The North Mississippi Allstars and Govt. Mule whose “The Shape I’m In” was cut short Saturday when the sky began to cry for Levon and a torrential downpour ensued.

Unfortunately since Wanee is 800 miles from my home and I have a pretty hectic work/family schedule I was only able to make it down by early Friday afternoon so forgive me as I can’t accurately cover some of the bands who started this party earlier in the week. I also want to apologize for not meeting everyone I had planned to but with the amount of music I wanted to see, the distance between places and the two other people I had to coordinate schedules with I did the best I could do. I did hear that I missed a great set with Duane Trucks’ new band, Flannel Church. They are a new blues/funk band featuring a bunch of musicians from various Col. Bruce Hampton projects. Some other acts that I really wished I could have seen were Ray Manzarek, Hot Tuna and Bruce Hornsby, just to name a few.

On Friday we first caught Buddy Guy, who was great, then The Mickey Hart Band followed by the Tedeschi Trucks Band - all leading up to the main courses of Furthur and the Allman Brothers Band. My highlights for Friday include Furthur’s Alligator>Ripple, Scarlet->Fire and their encore of Touch of Gray that had a rainbow full of sound and all the happy creatures dancing on the lawn. Normally after three hours plus Furthur show I would call it a night but that is the beauty of a festival; the music never stops! So, after a longer than expected break (due to Gregg’s seeming declining health) following Furthur, the headlining Allman Brothers Band finally took the Peach Stage late Friday night. I had seen ABB less than a month ago at the Beacon and was quite shocked by Gregg’s health and lack of mobility. From what I have read, it seems like Gregg had three hernias repaired in the nine days leading up to Wanee and has been taking medicine to help with the pain. That combination certainly explains things and I’m sure many lesser artists wouldn’t have even considered performing in this condition, but we all know Gregg is a warrior. So I hope that with the help of God and true friends he’ll still have two strong legs to stand on because we know he is bound to keep on riding and playing beautiful music for his loyal fans. The Allman Brothers set included a three-song tribute to Levon Helm starting with “It Makes No Difference” then Blind Willie McTell followed with The Weight along with Susan Tedeschi and Bob Weir, to name a few of the many people cluttered on stage. After the Allman’s set ended we headed over to catch the end of Particle’s set and enjoyed the sounds and vibe coming from the woods around the Mushroom stage and the festival people who inhabited this smurf village area.

We started Saturday off with a walk along the river and a dip in the Suwannee River to clean off the festival funk from Friday night. As I walked along the sandy trails near the river I could almost hear a sweet lullaby singing to me… don’t fly, mister blue bird, I’m just walking down the road, early morning sunshine tell me all I need to know. Being out and about in the campground visiting with people and seeing all the campsites with their varying degree of decorations was what I envision Halloween might be like in Haight-Ashbury. We also stumbled upon the Traveling Stage cruising down the road with Planet of the Abts on back of this retro fitted truck/stage delivering music right to your campsite, nice way to get the groove out to the people who were still crawling out of their sleeping bags from a long, long night.

We knew we were in for another long day of music Saturday so we didn’t start inside the festival grounds until Trigger Hippy hit the stage early in the afternoon. This fairly new American Rock and Roll super group consists of Black Crowes drummer Steve Gorman, singer/songwriter Will Kimbrough, singer Joan Osborne, singer/songwriter Jackie Greene and bassist Nick Govrik. They put on a very inspired show and I would encourage you to check them out if they come to a venue near you. After Trigger Hippy we wandered over to the Mushroom stage where a whole other group of hippies had gathered and watched Leftover Salmon laying down some of their rootsy, bluegrass, cajun, funk and improvisational licks. We then bounced back over to the Peach stage for Gov’t. Mule as Warren was asking the crowd “How you doing Wanee?” to which the crowd answered in unison with some whooping and hollering – but even those good vibes couldn’t keep away the storm that was fast approaching. *Note to self – if you pack rain gear bring it to the venue and don’t leave it in your tent! So during the Mules rendition of “The Shape I’m In” paying tribute to Levon, we had to run for cover and ride out the storm in the car while trying to dry off. After that Box of Rain cleared we made it back (with help from Juice) in time for Furthur to start “Playing in the Band.” I have seen Furthur many times as well as all the other bands that Phil and Bobby have been in over the years since The Grateful Dead and I must say I enjoy the two-set format much better than this one-set format. I definitely have to think that Lesh and Weir enjoy the break as well.

Furthur’s Saturday show included a nice PITB->China Cat Sunflower and a sweet Birdsong into Sugar Magnolia PITB>Help on the way>Slip>Franklins Tower that brought the swirling dancing crowd to a fever pitch. I was somewhat surprised that they broke out U.S. Blues for an encore considering this was Saturday night but maybe it just wasn’t late enough for one more Saturday night. Once Furthur ended we started to squeeze up as close as we could get to the stage, dodging people’s chairs, tarps and taping towers that they had put down hours in advance to secure a prime spot. Maybe it’s just me but I think if you put something down to hold your place then leave for several hours you really shouldn’t expect it to be available for you when you return. The Allman Brothers seemed to want to make some amends for the previous night’s late start and somewhat uncomfortable feel onstage and they proceeded to tear the Spanish moss off the trees with a blistering Jessica, Come and Go Blues then Walk on Gilded Splinters. A very subdued All Along the Watchtower slowed things down a bit then another beautiful cover, Into the Mystic was certainly a highlight. The first encore of the night was a chilling version of Needle and the Damage Done with just Gregg, Derek and Warren on stage; this hushed the crowd noise to the quietest level imaginable. Gregg sat on a stool and sang this song with the conviction that only one who has lived it and been there could pull off (see short, shaky, poor video clip here- sorry) Many people I talked to thought this might be the last time we would ever see Gregg perform, it was just a gut-wrenching give it your all performance that almost seemed to be a fitting farewell to a man who has fought the battles he has fought. Hopefully, everyone is wrong. The final ABB song and encore was Southbound with several extra artists helping out including Roosevelt Collier on pedal steel; Jackie Green on guitar; Danny Louis on keys; Jimmy Hall on harp and James van de Bogert on percussion.

After Southbound ended and Little Martha began coming over the PA system we slowly started to wade out away from the stage through the carnage of a four-day festival that will be remembered for quite some time. The closing act of Wanee this year in the late night slot was the North Mississippi Allstars, back in the woods on the mushroom stage. This place was chocked full of characters in full-blown festie attire grooving to some amazing jams. Roosevelt Collier from the Lee Boys came over and sat in with NMA the whole set and they were just tearing it up like you haven’t seen before, certainly one of the my new favorite bands! They brought out the lasers, the lights, muppets, you name it and it was going on. Before the final song Luther Dickinson came out and dedicated it to former Allman Brothers Band member Dickey Betts, late members Duane Allman and Berry Oakley and to Levon Helm. This jam of all jams seemed to include elements of Blue Sky and Jessica and I sure hope I can find a copy of it to download soon.

This marked the end of another Wanee Music Festival and it left me, and I’m sure everyone else, feeling lucky to be in attendance with memories that will last a lifetime. Check out the photo album below; we hope it will add some visibility and visuals to the otherwise invisible and wonderful music we heard at Wanee.

Wanee Music Festival 2012 Photos